


Summer Triangle

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M, Mehmet Gunsuir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-09
Updated: 2009-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: The Summer TriangleAuthor: Wede_ficPairing: Gerald Butler/Mehmet GunsuirModern Day Tayasha (set in Morgan’s Free Rangers Universe)Notes: The Summer Triangle is an astronomical asterism involving an imaginary triangle drawn on the northern hemisphere's celestial sphere, with its defining vertices at Altair, Deneb, and Vega, being the brightest stars in the three constellations of Aquila, Cygnus, and Lyra.~*~https://fanlore.org/wiki/Morgan%27s_Free_Rangers





	Summer Triangle

His watch showed two fifteen, ante meridian, God help him, and the chill of the gorse had seeped through the gap between his woolly coat and scarf. Leith was late. Very late. The flask in his pocket held a few sips of Glenglassaugh, chocolate wrappers and two Scottish pounds in change. He shook his head, teeth clenched, and tried desperately not to look at his watch again.

This late in the year, nearly hunt season, Vega, Deneb and Altair hung over the western horizon, bright and shocking through the width of Earth’s atmosphere. He thought suddenly, if Leith, damned his eyes, ever showed up, he’d likely not see them again in this life. Surely if he stayed he’d not see them past a fortnight. His hands shook inside the woolly jacket pockets. 

The Summer Triangle had lost nearly three degrees before he heard the rattling cough of Leith’s Range Rover. The time had just gone three and that car sounded like Salvation with leather seats. The engine cut just down the gully but he stayed tucked in, jacket collar popped, hat low over his eyes. He’d known Leith nearly all his life. Didn’t matter. Only those close to you can betray you. Suspect everyone. He hated it. 

The shadows in the gorse got darker and larger and Gerry just made out the sheen of moonlight off the leather of Leith’s jacket. 

“Gerald.” Leith murmured. Smart, Gerry thought. Given how this week had gone, there was just no chance he was willing to take. 

“Aye. You’re late.” He grumbled and heaved to his feet, knees and back aching. 

“Ungrateful bastard.” Leith grumbled back, pulling him into a rough hug. Gerry huffed out a breath and wrapped his arms around his friend. The warmth felt good, like a blessing, and Gerry held tight. 

“I’m going to miss you, dammit.” Leith said. He pulled tighter and slid a hand into Gerald’s hair, tugging him away with it, gently, but firmly, and met the gleam of his eye in the dark. “You are a pain in my ass but I love you, stupid git.” 

Gerry smiled sadly. He touched his lips to Leith’s, a brief brush full of memory and regret. “I love you too, bastard.” he said and rested their their foreheads together. His grip tightened and he pushed Leith away, shaking him by the shoulders. “Now, who am I?” He forced a smile, shook Leith again, let his smile warm as he saw Leith gather his wits and come back into the moment.

Leith slid a hand into his coat and pulled out an envelope, turned it in his hands, looking hard and full of sorrow. He nodded to himself and handed the packet over, just inches between them that meant forever gone. “Nice to meet you,” he said, taking hold of Gerry’s hand. “Gavin MacGregor”. 

Gerry raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked at the corner. “Gavin? Aye well, at least I’m not Angus, eh?” 

Leith put his hands to Gerry’s cheeks and brought their lips together again, fiercely. Precious seconds of night slipped away as Leith said his goodbye with lips and tongue. The envelope fell to the ground forgotten and a moment later Leith released him and fled, the rustling gorse the only mark of his passing. 

*~*

He opened the envelope in the men’s room at Glasgow International Airport and smiled at the contents. Passport and credit cards in the name of Gavin MacGregor, a work visa good for two years at something called the University of Aztlan and ten thousand New US dollars. Leith’s man had come through all right. He pocketed the money and passport and slipped the cards into his wallet. 

He had a plane to catch.

*~*

B&G flight 387 landed at San Antonio International just after dawn. He’d been traveling for twelve hours, Glasgow to Westmanland then Saint James and finally SAT. He’d slept fitfully and eaten nothing so he was tired, wrinkled and hungry when he made his way down the long gangway towards the main terminal. He pushed the double door with his elbow, shouldering it open and was hit by a riot of colour and heat. 

The terminal was huge, open girders with glass walls and a ceiling hung with brilliant colored hangings woven and painted in ornate Aztlan figures. Shops and restaurants lined the walkway filled with milling crowds of men, women and children in long flowing robes. The air was laden with succulent aromas of cooking meats and breads and the blessed fragrance of coffee.


End file.
